Wanting
by Zivacentric
Summary: First time Zibbs. AU in the sense that Ziva is not the liaison to NCIS. Attraction sizzles between Gibbs & Mossad Officer Ziva David as they work a joint case ... until she has to head back home to Israel leaving them both wanting what they cannot have.
1. Wanting

**_A/N: _**_If you feel a sense of déjà vu, well ... that would be accurate. :) Some of you are aware of why this was up, then down and please know your "Hey, where'd that go?" messages and unfailing support are greatly appreciated. *hug* Let's not discuss that more here or in reviews, but if there's something you'd like to know or say about that, please feel free to PM me. As a reward for giving this another go, you'll be reading chapter 2 tonight barring anything that gets in the way. _=D

_Now, in honor of the 2013 season finale airing TONIGHT, back to our previously scheduled programming ...__ Welcome to another of my little sidebar stories that occasionally hijack my muse rather insistently, even when I have other works under way. You can lay the blame for this one completely at the feet of molly2012, whose Zibbs "Genesis" fic totally got me thinking about Mossad Ziva and sent my muse into overdrive. (If you have not read that, do yourself a favor and GO READ IT. Right now. Or, at least after you read this. :D) So, a special dedication to you, my friend. xoxoxo_

_Please note that neither Kate nor Ari are in this; they simply didn't show up to be written into this fic. The MCRT consists of Gibbs, Tony & McGee; Abby, Ducky & Palmer are along for the ride, as is Malachi Ben-Gidon._

_This is fully drafted and, barring any unforeseen additions to the story or overly obsessive editing, it will be posted in five chapters, hopefully in fairly quick succession._

_This also comes with a BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY shout to my three favorite Bulls - iyimgrace, gosgirl & Bamacrush (in order of b-day appearance) - as this is my first posting since their days came & went. *mmmmMWAAAAAAH!* Those gals certainly appreciate badass Ziva, and have been known to channel her on occasion. ;D Oh, and here. *hands out cyber drool rags as additional b-day gifts* I put Gibbs in jeans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt just for you three. ;o)  
_

_I've taken Ziva & Gibbs out to play very differently here again, which is always exciting for me. I hope you enjoy it and that you'll let me know if you do. Thanks for reading!  
_

* * *

"C'mon, Boss," Tony coaxed, "come out with us. The Israelis are buying."

Gibbs cocked a brow at his senior agent's daring assumption on who was financing this night out he was suggesting, even as Mossad Officer Ziva David did much the same.

And, damn, if that ice queen look from those dark eyes that hinted at a fire underneath that could consume a man didn't turn him on.

'Course, pretty much everything the sexy, dark-haired woman did in that quietly confident, provocative way she had made his dick twitch. She was easily the most exotic woman he'd ever seen up close and personal, even in her preferred uniform of cargo pants, V-neck t-shirt and cropped jacket.

And the way he caught her surreptitiously staring at him when she thought he wasn't looking made him think the attraction that had blindsided him just might be mutual.

Earlier that week, NCIS had been graced with the unexpected presence of Officers David and Malachi Ben-Gidon, whether they wanted them there or not. The Israeli intelligence officers had good intel that two Hamas operatives had stowed away on a Navy ship with the help of at least one sympathizer on board. The ship was due to dock at Bethesda next week.

This particular ship did not have an NCIS agent afloat on board. In order not to alert the stowaways and any who'd provided assistance, Team Gibbs and the Mossad officers had decided not to attempt to intercept the ship before docking, though they did have remote eyes on it 24/7 to make sure no other watercraft approached it on which the terrorists might make an escape.

They'd worked out a plan to meet the ship with enough Naval and Marine support to lock it down tighter than a drum when it docked, while they searched for the stowaways and their protectors. In addition, they'd been checking into the background of every member of the crew and had created a short list of those they would start with on that angle.

But now, it was Friday night and there was little to do until they met again Sunday afternoon with everyone involved to review the plan one last time before the ship docked on Monday.

Hence, Tony's idea that they blow off a little steam at their favorite bar for a while. God knows, they'd been going full tilt for the last week investigating and planning.

While there had been some initial jockeying for position, things had gone about as smoothly as possible. David and Ben-Gidon were clearly partners who knew their stuff, though Ziva seemed to have the upper hand between them when push came to shove.

She'd unassumingly established herself as Gibbs' equal from the get-go, though she ceded to his lead when it was called for. That, in some ways, was a shocker, as most of the others had been prepared for a "who's in charge" pissing match between the two given the leadership vibes that fairly thrummed through them both.

Though that wasn't nearly as shocking to those who knew him as those instances in which _Gibbs_ acquiesced to _her_ lead.

But perhaps the reason for the natural working rhythm they'd fallen into lay somewhere in the sparks of attraction and sexual tension that had been bouncing between them from the moment their eyes met in Director Vance's office when he'd called Gibbs up to inform him that his team had been specifically requested to work on a joint venture with Mossad.

As plans were being made to go out this Friday night, Ziva was casually leaning against the side of Gibbs' desk, arms crossed, one hip practically balanced on the edge of his desk in silent invitation for him to stare at her ass.

She loved catching him eyeing her ass.

And wondered if he'd ever caught her staring at his these past few days.

Gibbs had returned his attention to his computer screen, though he wasn't really seeing anything. All his mind's eye could picture was that incredibly attractive backside parked on his desk.

"Come with us, Gibbs," Abby pleaded. "It'll be fun. Everyone's in so far except you and Ziva."

Ziva straightened and stepped around behind his desk. Placing one hand on the back of his chair and the other on his desk, she leaned close enough for the ends of her ponytail to tickle the back of his neck, ostensibly looking at what he had up on the screen.

"I will if you will," she murmured in the vicinity of his ear.

The flirtation running underneath those smoky words was impossible to miss.

He stilled.

And grabbed for the reins of his libido with both hands.

He turned his head slowly until he could look into her provocatively teasing gaze that dared him to come along. Their faces were close enough that he nearly brushed her lips with his.

Her eyes darkened as they fixed on his mouth. When her tongue came out to wet her bottom lip, he nearly groaned out loud.

"I'm in." The satisfaction that flashed in her beautiful brown eyes at his words went straight to his groin.

"I am, as well," Ziva said out loud, rising from her bent position.

"Yay!" Abby hooted. She hadn't completely decided how she felt about the two Mossad officers – and found Malachi more approachable than Ziva – but they were clearly along for the ride on this case, so she would give them the benefit of the doubt until she had reason to do otherwise.

Besides, she knew Gibbs well enough to see that he had a thing for Officer David and she didn't know a better judge of character than Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Ziva wanted to stop by the hotel where she and Malachi were staying before going to the bar. She kept her reasons to herself, but this was her first opportunity to be close to the intriguing, sexy team leader in a purely social manner and she intended to make the most of it.

She'd been hot for him for the last five days and had the exciting sense that her interest was returned.

A shower, a change of clothes and some light make-up were definitely in order.

McGee needed to run home and let his dog out, so he offered to pick her up on his way to the bar … before Gibbs could stop his internal debate on the wisdom of offering her a ride himself.

After sending a gently amused, knowing glance Jethro's way, Ziva accepted Tim's offer with a small smile.

She reassured herself that there should be plenty of time this evening to make a move on Gibbs if the opening presented itself. Besides, she liked the quiet computer-savvy agent. He'd been the first to be genuinely welcoming when she and her partner had shown up out of the blue.

Malachi decided to swing by his room first and catch a ride with Tim, as well, while most of the others decided to go straight for drinks. Gibbs just said he'd meet them there.

He went home to shower and change into jeans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt, though he refused to consider just why he had the urge to do so ... resolutely ignoring it even when he decided to shave, too.

* * *

About an hour later, Ziva, Malachi and McGee walked into the crowded bar, searching for the others.

"Timmy! Over here!"

They looked over to see Abby waving madly from the small dance floor. She had managed to get Tony and Palmer out there with her.

Pushing through the crowd of fellow dancers, Abby grabbed hold of McGee's hand and pulled.

"Dance with us, McGee!" Abby sent a friendly smile toward the Israelis by his side. "Hey, guys. The others are over at the bar until a table opens up."

Ziva looked over to find Ducky and Gibbs sitting side by side on stools at the bar. She watched as the bartender set a glass of something in front of Gibbs … and as two attractive women, a blond and a red head, who were sitting a couple of seats down whispered to each other and then tried to catch his attention.

Her eyes narrowed.

Her partner sensed her focus and followed her gaze. What he saw made him hide a smirk.

As the red-haired woman started to make a move to get physically closer to Gibbs, Ziva murmured in Hebrew under her breath.

_I do not think so._

She fluidly made her way toward the subject of her attention and Malachi shook his head. He sent a silent suggestion to the silver-haired agent that he kiss the rest of his evening goodbye. Ziva clearly had plans for him and she had a way of getting what she wanted.

He pushed aside a twinge of not-quite-jealousy that was more for form than substance, though he did find it irritating at times that his partner seemed to be more in sync with this outsider than with him this week.

Adroitly, Ziva slipped in sideways between Gibbs and the stranger sitting right next to him, cutting off the red-head just before she reached Jethro's side.

He looked up as he felt her breasts intentionally brush against him on her way to leaning against the bar.

Their eyes met.

Snagged.

Ducky stopped talking as he eventually noticed Jethro's lack of focus. Once he realized where that focus had gone, he grinned inwardly and raised his glass in silent toast to the attraction fairly humming between the couple.

_You go, Jethro._

Malachi came up and slid onto the stool on the other side of Ducky and the medical examiner turned to greet him.

"I am here," Ziva reported to Gibbs unnecessarily, in a voice ripe with familiarity and just loud enough to carry as far as the red head who was standing still nearby as though she couldn't believe someone had had the audacity to swoop in on her territory. "Did you miss me?"

The ghost of a smirk tugged at Jethro's lips. He had been acutely aware of her absence, but kept that to himself. What he hadn't missed was the attention of the women down the bar or the possessive stance Ziva assumed as she slid in beside him – _between_ him and those other women.

"Just got here myself," he returned, side-stepping the question.

She gave him a look that said she noticed that he hadn't actually answered her, but would let him off the hook – for now. She then allowed her eyes to roam over him appreciatively.

"Mmmm," she hummed. "I can see that you went home first, as well." She rested her left hand on his forearm left bare by the sleeves he'd shoved up to his elbows, then sent it drifting up over his biceps to his shoulder to cup his neck. "I like this look on you."

She leaned in even closer and barely brushed her nose along the side of his neck.

"And you smell good, too," she breathed softly.

"Could say the same to you," he admitted in a low voice, all but devouring her painted-on jeans, form-fitting top, denim jacket and some kind of lotion that gave his hormones the urge to howl. She'd left her long, dark hair loose about her face, her shoulders. Mostly straightened, it resembled a curtain of silk in which he longed to bury his hands.

"What are you drinking?" she asked, shifting the subject.

Before he could reply, Ziva ran the tip of her finger around the edge of the glass that he still held in one hand, the bottom resting flat against the bar's surface. The manner in which she did it was deliberately enticing and when she dipped her finger daintily into the amber brown liquid before raising that finger to her mouth and sucking lightly, her gaze glued to his …

Well.

He couldn't breathe and his pants got even tighter.

And she knew it.

The minx.

"Mmmm …" she all but purred. "Very good. Do you always drink very smooth bourbon?"

He finally found his voice.

"Every chance I get."

Before this hot little tête-à-tête could continue, Abby's voice could be heard above the din of the crowd.

"Guys! Guys! A table opened up!" She was jumping up and down, her hand in the air, so her friends could see her.

The others started over to join her and her dancing partners as they took a break to sit, eat and just relax. Gibbs looked at Ziva with one eyebrow cocked when she failed to move.

Two could play this game, he decided.

Consigning to hell the thought that maybe this wasn't such a good idea, he stood, edging right into her space until she was eventually forced to take a step back. He smirked roguishly as she swallowed hard and her eyes darkened with desire as he leaned lightly into her.

"Table's ready," he nudged her.

"But I like it right here," she murmured.

He bent and put his lips against the shell of her ear.

"You'll like it even better over there. Trust me."

And she, who rarely trusted easily, admitted to herself that she did.

With a private smile playing about her lips, she gave a single nod and turned toward the others.

Placing a proprietary hand at the small of her back and enjoying the way she pressed into his touch, he guided her over to the table where the others had gathered, carrying his drink in the other hand. The others had started sitting down. Gibbs stared at DiNozzo until he shifted chairs so that there were two right next to each other with the backs against the wall and a view of the door.

Ziva tossed a smirk of approval over her shoulder at him. Exactly the seats she would have chosen, too.

And, to her surprise, she found a small piece of her heart warmed when he took the seat closer to the door, unconsciously putting himself between her and any unexpected threat that might come from that direction. Typically, such behavior from a man put her back up as though the action suggested she couldn't take care of herself if something did happen.

But it felt different with Gibbs …

A lot of things did.

She sat in thought over that for a moment, not entirely comfortable with what that might mean.

But not entirely uncomfortable either.

A sexy voice rumbled in her ear, breaking into her thoughts.

"You okay?"

A slight shiver went through her in response and Gibbs' characteristic smile tugged at one side of his mouth as he relished her reaction to his quiet question.

Ziva grabbed for some self control and nodded.

"Waitress is taking orders," he pointed out. "What do you want?"

She closed her eyes against the pictures that flooded her mind at those words, while moist heat pooled in her panties.

Then she looked at him, brown eyes nearly burning into blue.

_You._

His own eyes darkened and his eyes focused on her very kissable lips for a moment.

"That's mutual," he murmured in a voice for her ears only, "but better start with something on the menu."

The sexy humor that twinkled in his captivating eyes sparked her own and she snapped out of her thoughts.

She released a sigh of not-quite-mock regret.

"If we must."

He grinned and rested his arm along the back of her chair as she ordered a bourbon and the "World Famous Cheeseburger" from the menu, after confirming with some of the others that they were indeed "to die for."

Malachi grinned as the waitress walked away. "A cheeseburger again, Ziva? You are going to turn into one."

She made a face at him that had the others chuckling.

"I cannot help it," she shrugged. "I have a weakness for your American cheeseburgers, the good ones, anyway."

"What other weaknesses do you have, Officer David?" Tony wheedled. "Do tell."

_Apparently strong, self-assured, incredibly attractive, silver-haired Marines._

Fortunately, she managed to keep that thought in her head by taking a sip of her drink that had just arrived. Her body language didn't lie, though, as she unconsciously drifted closer toward Gibbs' body heat, though the movement was so slight he was the only other one who noticed.

"Do I seem like a woman who would easily spill her weaknesses so they could be used against her, Agent DiNozzo?" she asked with just enough good humor mixed in with the arrogance in the slight lift of her brow to make the others grin.

She was acutely aware of Jethro's arm shifting casually and when his hand came to rest on her thigh, she barely held in her gasp. After a moment, his hand slowly smoothed … roamed … circled … squeezed.

Clearly he'd picked up on her weakness for him.

And this is what he must have meant by enjoying sitting here even more. Oh, the things one could do with a hand when the table blocked the others' view.

_Or a foot_ she considered, slipping one foot out of her flat shoe and wrapping her lower leg around his, using her toes to search for skin under his pant leg.

Now who had to shake off a shudder?

The conversation shifted and everyone's food arrived. Ziva let go a low moan of gratification with the first bite of her burger that had Gibbs shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Ziva glanced up at him as she swallowed. "I can see why these are 'world famous.' Can we come back here?"

He smiled, charmed by her simple pleasure in the meal and nodded in that way he had.

Her happy sound as she dove back into eating her cheeseburger kept his smile on his face far longer than it should have, even as her enthusiasm made him wonder about her other appetites.

She was such a contradiction, Officer Ziva David.

Strong. Competent. Smart. Completely badass.

Amused – and amusing. Discriminately friendly.

Sensual, in every sense of the word.

Confident. Cheeky. Well-defended.

Suddenly, briefly, surprisingly unguarded.

Protected.

Protective.

Eyes that spoke of a soul that had seen too much … and yet retained a zest for living life in the moment.

And he found himself wanting to explore layer after layer.

After everyone had finished eating, Abby got all of the others back on the dance floor … except Ziva and Gibbs. He had no desire to dance to what was playing right now and she had no intention of giving up a moment of alone time with Gibbs.

Once everyone else had vacated the table, Ziva finished off the last of her bourbon and nonchalantly laid her left hand on Jethro's right thigh. After indulging herself in smoothing her hand over the length of his upper leg, she squeezed his muscle, pleased with what she found under her fingers.

She angled her gaze so she could see her hand in contrast to his leg and couldn't help her _Mmmm_ of pleasure.

He'd been resting his arm over the back of her chair again, and now he allowed his hand to come up and play in her hair, let his fingers brush against the soft skin of her neck. She looked up at him with an intimate smile that went straight to his groin.

"Alone at last," she murmured in a sultry voice that further inflamed his senses.

"You call this alone?" he asked with a snort, eyeballing the crowded room.

Pressing against his side, she nuzzled her face near his neck and breathed deeply.

God, she wanted him.

Had from the moment she'd laid eyes on his picture as she'd studied deep background she'd put together herself on him and his team en route to D.C.

"We are more alone that we have been all week," she pointed out softly. She tilted her head to look up at him. "And all I see right now is you."

His eyes darkened with emotion and his hand came up to tuck one side of her long brown hair behind her ear. She leaned into his touch with another one of those smiles that he was already addicted to.

The music changed to something slow.

Ziva leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "Dance with me."

He swallowed. Hard.

"Don't dance much," he managed, risking a sip of his drink, hoping he could get it past the lump in his throat.

"I cannot help but notice that is not a 'no,'" Ziva observed in a throaty murmur.

He snorted.

"Your feet may end up wishing it was," he returned, unable to stop himself from leaning into her.

She rubbed her foot up and down his leg again.

"I believe we have already established that my feet like you," she flirted. Something deeper flashed in her eyes, then was gone as quickly as it had come. Her voice dropped a little lower. "Actually, all of me likes you."

"Yeah?"

She nodded, then she smiled again.

"That is why I want to dance with you," she explained in a throaty murmur. "I would have a perfectly legitimate excuse to put my hands on you …" She squeezed his thigh again. "… and have your hands on me."

She leaned up and put her lips to his ear.

"Do you want your hands on me, Jethro?"

The combination of that sultry voice and his name nearly had him coming in his jeans.

He nodded, before he found his voice.

"Want more than that," he admitted.

A pleased, happy spark glittered in her eyes.

"So do I," she shared. "But this will be a very nice start."

"Maybe after I finish my drink," he stalled, making a last ditch effort to fight the strength of the pull he felt toward her.

She audaciously picked up his glass and downed the remaining contents in one swallow without batting an eye.

A strong, smart, sexy, confident woman who could teach even him a thing or two about handling weapons and could also knock back a shot of bourbon like it was water.

He was a goner.

She stood and held her hand out to him. He placed his hand in hers and allowed her to lead him to a section of the dance floor that was not completely packed with people.

He could feel the eyes of his team and her partner following them, but he paid little attention. He was – wanted to be – completely wrapped up in this woman that intrigued him on so many levels.

He wanted her like he hadn't wanted anyone in what felt like forever.

And, miracle of miracles, she wanted him back.

She turned into him with that intimate smile that he'd only seen directed toward him. Not even pretending that she wanted anything less than dancing close, she slid her hands appreciatively up his chest and clasped them at the back of his neck, resting her body against his.

He put his hands on her hips, squeezing gently just for the pure pleasure of it, as he looked down at her. There was something about her that always seemed larger than life at NCIS, but standing like this, she seemed so much smaller than he was … delicate even.

He snorted internally. She'd probably punch him for even thinking that.

They didn't speak, simply moved together in a natural rhythm as old as time, yet new to both of them. Slowly, she melted against him until not even a whisper could have passed between them. His hands inched their way around to rest against the small of her back. By the end of the song, her head was against his shoulder, her nose close enough to his throat to surround herself with his scent, while the side of his head rested against hers.

One song blended into another. This one had a little more of a driving, sultry beat running beneath it that picked the pace up slightly, but they didn't miss a step … just kept moving together like they'd been dancing partners for years instead of a handful of moments. Every so often, one or the other would move a hand, a finger, a thumb, stroking skin, smoothing over clothes, searching for what pleased them both.

As words of wanting, of longing thickened the air around them, they were drawn to look at each other. Slowly, Ziva tilted her head back as he did the same. Their eyes met … couldn't look away as the song, the dance wrapped them in a cocoon that insulated them from all the others in the room.

As the last word was still fading, Ziva stretched up on tiptoe to breathe into his ear.

"If you do not find us some privacy in the next thirty seconds, I am going to kiss you right on this dance floor."

* * *

_A/N #2:__ The song I hear in my head during their second dance is "Wanted" by Hunter Hayes. The title of this fic was decided and most of this chapter was written before that came to me, so it is not integral to the chapter. If music has meaning for you, feel to have them dance to whatever song(s) you'd like. :)_


	2. Thrilling

"If you do not find us some privacy in the next thirty seconds, I am going to kiss you right on this dance floor."

_Jesus._

His eyes burning with the same desire hers were, Gibbs turned without a word, snagging her hand and keeping her close as he led her off the floor.

He headed down the back hall that led away from the main area, catching the eye of the bartender on the way. The guy just tilted his head with a small, knowing smile.

Jethro walked straight to the door at the end of the hall and opened it. In the blink of an eye, he had her inside the storage room and pressed up against the door as he locked it.

Before he could even catch his breath, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and captured his mouth with hers … warmly … softly … masterfully … and he had the strangest feeling that the world as he knew it had just shifted on its axis.

And then she licked along his bottom lip and everything else ceased to exist but the feel of her in his arms.

In the space of a heartbeat, they were nearly devouring each other. One of his arms banded around her waist to hold her close and the other hand slipped under her thigh to pull it up over his hip.

Ziva gasped as that move pressed her sensitive center into more direct contact with his hardening shaft. Four layers of clothing did little to dampen her reaction. He swallowed the sound she made and dove a little deeper into her mouth.

They kissed for endless, glorious minutes, reveling in the attraction that sizzled so hotly between them.

Intentionally slowing himself down, Gibbs withdrew bit by bit. He lifted his head just far enough to release her mouth, then dipped back for several more soft, clinging kisses that were just as heady as the first.

Raising his head at last, he lifted one hand and brushed the backs of his fingers along her cheek on the way to tunneling those long fingers into the silk of her hair. She flexed her hands into his shoulders and made a little noise of pleasure in her throat that nearly smashed his control to smithereens.

Ziva leaned her head back against the door and slowly lifted her thick lashes to reveal eyes that were slumberous with desire.

"More."

"Could be a really bad idea," he husked in answer, giving voice to the angel sitting on one shoulder reminding him of Rule 12 and valiantly trying to ignore the devil on the other who was whispering that she wasn't _actually_ a co-worker.

"Or perhaps a really good one," she pointed out in a low voice that skittered down his spine as she indulged herself by rubbing her hands over his chest.

He nearly groaned and dropped his forehead to rest against hers.

Ziva cupped his face in her hands and tilted his head back so she could see his eyes.

"What concerns you?" she asked softly with a small, understanding curve to her lips.

"Still have to work together," he observed. "Could get complicated."

_Got a rule about that._

But his body was unconsciously shifting against hers like it really couldn't give a damn.

"True," she agreed, privately marveling at how lucky she was to be so taken with such a good man who would think about more than just satisfying his physical need. She honestly wasn't used to that. "But my body does not seem to mind."

A provocative gleam sparkled in her big brown eyes as she tipped her hips into his.

"Nor does yours."

He huffed out a slight chuckle with a tilt of his head in agreement and that smile she'd come to recognize as all his tugged at the corner of his lips. If anything, that made him even more appealing. She caught her lower lip in her teeth and made a sexy little noise that was nearly his undoing.

She left one hand on the back of his neck as her fingers speared into the silvering hair that she found so, so attractive, while the fingertips of her other hand smoothed over his cheek, across his bottom lip, along his chiseled jaw, down his neck to rest over his pulse that was thumping visibly against the base of his throat.

Her eyes darkened with need and her tongue inched out to wet her suddenly dry lips.

"I want you," she breathed in the sexiest voice he'd ever heard, her dark eyes capturing his brilliant blue ones, not afraid to let him see just how much.

"You always get what you want?" he nearly growled with a mix of heat and curiosity on his face as his hand slid slowly from her waist to rest just beneath her breast.

Her breath caught and she felt her response to him send more warm moisture into the thong she wore beneath her tight jeans.

He was so close, yet not nearly close enough. She almost shifted so that those long, strong fingers would be covering the soft mound that was longing for his touch, but on the outskirts of her mind she realized he'd asked her something …

Her brain caught up with his question and a shadow passed through her eyes so quickly he might have imagined it, if he hadn't already gained the sense that there were hidden depths to this woman that she kept closely guarded.

"Not always," she answered quietly. "But I have learned to reach for what I want, what I need because some opportunities do not come around again."

She looked into his eyes directly, gently, compassionately.

"You have learned that, too, yes?"

He had the feeling she was talking about Shannon, Kelly … and maybe even revenge. But how did she know about that?

She must have read his mind.

"I had the advantage of knowing I was coming to you," she pointed out easily, warmly. "And I am very good at my job."

The ghost of an understanding curve to her lips and the way her body continued to flow against his, wrapping around him, no judgment or pulling away, kept him anchored where he was, though his expression couldn't help but become a little shuttered.

Ziva raised her hand to cup his jaw. Her gaze found his, clear and true.

"Your secrets are safe with me, Jethro," she promised softly. Then that shadow crossed her eyes again. "And we have more in common than you could possibly know."

Not for the first time since their initial meeting, an unspoken sense of understanding passed between them that was as enticing as it was vaguely … unsettling.

Then Ziva deliberately brought the mood back to the attraction sizzling between them. She brushed her lips across his before skimming them along his jaw to his ear. She bit gently on his earlobe, then soothed it with her tongue. He squeezed her more tightly in unconscious response.

"Life can be short. I do not want to live it with regrets," she told him quietly. She wrapped both arms around his neck again and pressed her center into him, her leg still wrapped over his hip. Her lips within a breath of his, her head tilted back just far enough to be able to focus on his gaze, she added, "And I would very much regret not being with you while I had the chance."

She brought her face closer until her lips were touching his as she spoke.

"If that is what you want, too."

_Hell, yeah, that's what he wanted._

Couldn't remember when he'd wanted anything more.

True to form, he answered her with actions rather than giving her the words.

He captured her mouth in a passionate kiss that stole her breath and gave her his, that turned her brain to mush until all she knew was the feel of him against her … the touch of his hands as they roamed over her, pressing her even closer … the tide of _need_ that crashed over them and threatened to drown them both unless they hung on to each other for dear life.

At long last he lifted his head and gazed down at her, satisfaction slamming through him as it took her a minute to find the wherewithal to lift her lids and reveal eyes that had gone nearly blind with desire.

For him.

That look was just for him.

And he wanted more of it. More of everything.

"That answer your question?" Gibbs husked roguishly, putting his hands on her very fine ass and lifting her into him.

A feline smile slowly curved her lips and a thrilled, sexy light brightened her eyes.

"Yes, I believe it does," she murmured.

She took his lower lip between her teeth and scraped gently.

"Now, while having sex with you inside a storage room does have definite appeal, how would you feel about leaving it to find a bed?" Then her eyes took on a devilish glint. "Or at least a wall that is not likely to have someone knocking on the other side of it at an inopportune moment?"

He grinned and dipped his head to bite her neck just hard enough to make her gasp and make that sexy little noise again that went straight to his groin.

"Works for me," he breathed against her skin before sucking on it lightly just to hear her make that sound again.

He wasn't disappointed.

Jethro lifted his head to look down at her with that characteristic smile tugging at his mouth.

"You know the others are gonna know exactly why we're leaving, right?" he asked.

"Mmhmm," she responded with a small smile. "Is that a problem for you?"

He shook his head. "You?"

She stretched up and whispered in his ear.

"I would go with you even if they all came along to watch," she admitted in a sinfully sultry voice, stressing the last word. "Does that answer _your_ question?"

That devilish glint was back in her eyes and he let go a laugh that was equal parts attraction and disbelief.

Damn, if she wasn't surprisingly appealing on so many levels, more than just physically.

And wasn't that just icing on the cake?

"Your place or mine?" he mumbled as he dipped his chin to brush his nose along her neck again.

"You have a house, yes?"

He nodded against her.

"Then, since I had the foresight to come prepared for a possible overnight stay, I vote for yours," she murmured seductively, snagging his gaze with that impish light back in her eyes. "We can be louder there."

His breath strangled in his chest as pictures flashed through his mind – with audio.

"Sold."

After one last long, hot kiss to hold them over at least until they got to his truck, Jethro unlocked the door and she led the way out, lacing their fingers together as they walked closely enough to brush against each other as they moved.

The others were gathered around the table once more. There were a couple of conversations going on that stopped as every head turned to watch Gibbs and Ziva stroll up.

Without fanfare, Ziva announced they were leaving and Gibbs tossed some money onto the table to cover their portion of the bill, despite DiNozzo's earlier assertion on who would be paying tonight. After assuring McGee with a wink that she could get her backpack out of his trunk without his key, they were out the door.

* * *

The ride to Gibbs' house was accomplished in record time, punctuated with stolen kisses and fueled by wandering, hungry hands.

Once inside his house, he uncharacteristically threw the lock on the door, leaving the rest of the world outside without conscious thought. Ziva dropped her backpack to the floor and pushed him up against the door, taking his mouth in a kiss that immediately went hot and deep.

Jethro put his hands on her bottom and boosted her up so her legs could wrap around his waist. Turning, he pressed her between himself and the wall.

"Wall or bed?" he mumbled against her lips.

Ziva tightened her limbs around him as her lips explored him feverishly.

God, had she ever been this _desperate_ for anyone?

"Both," she breathed in response. "Anything. Everything."

Those three words uttered against his skin nearly did him in.

"Bed," he decided masterfully, figuring his legs wouldn't carry them upstairs after he'd come inside her and he definitely wanted her in his bed.

Coming from this man, that take-charge male inside him turned her on even more, which was a first for her. She melted, moaned and took his mouth again.

Without breaking their kiss, he got them up to his room and kicked the door closed behind them.

"I want to see you," Ziva whispered against his mouth.

He allowed her legs to slide slowly down him so he had a free hand to turn on the light beside the bed.

She gripped the hem of his shirt with both hands and had it over his head in an instant, followed quickly by the white t-shirt he seemingly always wore.

Feasting her eyes and her hands on his handsome, contoured chest, she released a low hum of pleasure. She licked her lips, her mouth literally watering for him. He made a noise and she shifted her eyes to his where a brilliant blue heat was blazing.

He pushed her jacket off her shoulders and took a moment to run his hands over her in her red form-fitting, cap-sleeved shirt, stealing her breath when he cupped her breasts in his hands. When he discovered she wasn't wearing a bra underneath, it was his turn to practically drool.

"Nothin' under here but you," he breathed into her ear, squeezing her soft mounds gently, rubbing his thumbs over her hardening nipples.

"I did not pack with a night like this in mind, so my choices in underwear were limited," she managed, closing her eyes to better revel in the sensations he was arousing within her. "I decided you might find me more … enticing like this."

"You entice me just by existing," he muttered, shifting his hands so they were underneath her shirt.

She gasped as he covered her bare breasts with his strong, capable, work-roughened hands. Suddenly, she couldn't bear to wait even another minute before he was naked … on top of her … inside her.

Reaching down between them, she unfastened his belt and unsnapped his jeans. She slid her hand inside his pants to cup his impressive erection. Even through his underwear, her touch sent an electric-like shock through him.

"Hurry," she begged against his mouth, nearly whimpering. "I cannot wait."

"Don't want to miss anything," he mumbled in vague protest, even as he had her shirt off and her jeans unbuttoned in record time.

"Next time slower," she breathed. "I need you now."

"Careful there, Officer David," he managed to tease affectionately, valiantly trying to slow them down a little just to draw out the pleasure that was licking through him like flames. "Think you're in danger of spilling another weakness."

A breathless chuckle escaped her throat and stirred him further.

"I believe that boat has sailed," she observed, adorably changing the phrase. Something more serious lit the back of her eyes as she looked into his. "And as it happens, I trust you with that."

Satisfaction rolled thorough him at her words and he dipped his head to kiss her like he never wanted to stop.

Working together, they were naked in no time. Gibbs flipped back the covers with one hand, then lifted her to wrap around him once more. The feel of skin against skin, nothing between them, was indescribably erotic. He managed to get his knees onto the bed, then fell forward with her, putting one arm out to catch himself and slow their descent to the mattress so he wouldn't hurt her.

"Yes," she hissed, relishing the weight of him on top of her. _OhmyGod. YES._

Finally.

Their lips met, tongues delved deep, searching for the other. Their hands were anything but idle as they could not resist the feel of each other.

The gentle curves of her breasts and her dark, pebbling nipples called to him with a siren's song that was impossible to ignore. Her back arched high off the bed with a little cry that nearly sent him over the edge as he indulged himself in kissing and licking her breasts, sucking the hardened centers that contrasted with the silken mounds surrounding them.

In only a matter of moments, Ziva reached between them and took hold of his rock hard shaft, stroking him, guiding him toward her.

"Now. _Please_," she moaned, past the point of caring if she was begging. If she didn't get him inside of her soon, she was going to die right then, right there.

"Wait," he managed. "Gotta make sure –"

His hand found her nest of tight dark curls between her thighs and slid into her slick folds.

_Christ_.

She was ready all right.

Something else hovered on the outskirts of his mind that felt very important …

Oh.

"Birth control?" he husked.

While part of her was touched that he'd think of protecting them when she was too far gone to be bothered – another first for her - Ziva was out of patience.

She flipped him onto his back. In one fluid move, she rose over him and lined him up at her entrance.

"Got it," she answered on a breath, referring to her IUD. "No more waiting."

And with that decree, she lowered herself onto him, moaning out loud as he filled her.

She had to go more slowly initially than she wanted because she had to allow her body to stretch to accommodate the size of him. Her head fell back, her long curtain of hair falling like silk and tickling the tops of his thighs. His hands gripped her hips, but he allowed her to set the pace.

Once she had him fully seated within her, Ziva slowly brought her head forward and lifted her lids so she could see his face, gratified to see his need for her was as fierce as hers for him.

Their eyes met as she slowly bent forward until her hands were braced on either side of his head. Rubbing against him with that sexy little noise of hers that drove him wild, she nipped at his lower lip with her teeth before capturing his mouth in a kiss that went on and on and on.

She began to slide back and forth over him. His hips rose and fell with hers, finding their rhythm as instinctively here as they did in all other things.

They moved together, both of them craving fast and slow at the same time.

Fast won out.

Their breath came in near pants, their mouths parted at ragged intervals just long enough to capture some much-needed air.

In a quick move that took her by surprise, Jethro rolled Ziva to her back. With a chuckle that came out as a strangled moan, Ziva yanked his mouth back to hers and decided this position worked, too … was, in fact, perhaps her new favorite position.

Yet another astonishing revelation in a night that had already seen its share.

Faster and faster they moved.

Her hands slid down his long spine, pressed against his lower back, gripped his very fine ass.

He buried his face in her neck and she wrapped one arm around his head to hold him there. His lips and teeth sucked and nipped at her soft skin until he left a mark that he would view later with a shocking sense of satisfaction.

_His_.

Before long – but with a breathless sense of _finally_ - Jethro felt her inner muscles fluttering around him, squeezing him even more tightly and knew she was getting close and that he was about to explode. Sliding one hand between them he teased her swollen clit deliciously lightly, then pressed firmly … and she flew over the edge, crying out, taking him with her.

Falling …

Falling …

Falling …

Landing softly, bonelessly …

Together.

He collapsed against her, completely unable to move.

That was just fine. She had no intention of letting him go anywhere soon.

Slowly, they came back to the present … nuzzling … breathing in … sighing out … hands smoothing tenderly … lips brushing gently.

"Mmmm …" Ziva sighed, shifting against him for the pure pleasure of the glide of her sweat-slicked skin against his. "Remind me to thank Tony."

Her murmured words had him tilting his head back far enough to cock an arrogant brow at her. She dipped her chin and looked down at him as she felt his head move. She nearly grinned at his expression.

_DiNozzo? What the hell does he have to do with what just happened in this bed?_

Nuzzling her nose against his cheek, she explained.

"If not for his suggestion to go out tonight, we might have waited even longer to do this."

Smirking, he relaxed against her once more, resting his cheek on her chest.

"That woulda been a damn shame," he observed.

"Indeed," she agreed warmly, cupping his jaw and bringing his face up for a soft kiss before hugging him to her again. "Indeed."

They lay just like that for longer than either could keep track of, talking quietly, murmuring affectionately, sharing words and touches that brought them even closer.

Before long, that desire that had been slaked but not quenched rolled through them again. This time was indeed slower … exploring every inch of each other with hands and lips … every touch deliberately arousing … every gasp, mew, _yes _immensely thrilling until they coupled together once more, calling for each other as the wave of completion crashed over them for a second time.

Eventually, Jethro roused just enough to turn out the light. Ziva pulled the covers over them as she curled into his side with her head on his chest.

Utterly, completely satisfied for the first time since laying eyes on each other a few days before, they drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_Well ... cold shower, anyone? ;D THANKS for reading!  
_


	3. Enjoying

_Monday evening …_

"Tell him!" Ziva all but yelled into the suspect's face, pounding the table furiously in a very Gibbs-esque move.

Those in the observation room were suitably impressed.

The suspect was more scared than impressed, proving he wasn't completely stupid.

Weighing in on the stupid side, however, was the fact that he still wasn't talking even after Gibbs had laid everything out for him as only Gibbs can do.

Earlier, the NCIS team, the Mossad officers and all the additional military personnel they'd assembled had boarded the Navy ship searching for the stowaways. Soon after they arrived, the captain had pressed Gibbs to allow two sailors to be transported to the hospital without waiting for the search to be completed. The men had apparently been quarantined in the sick bay pretty much the whole time they'd been at sea

He'd appeared to be genuinely concerned and telling the truth as he knew it, but Ziva and Gibbs had exchanged a look, their respective guts poking at them.

What better way to hide in plain sight, so to speak, than to be where no one would be allowed in or out without raising any questions?

It turned out they had been right to be suspicious.

Ziva and Jethro had quickly made their way to sick bay and found exactly who they were looking for.

The take-down had not gone without incident, however.

_As Gibbs wrestled one suspect into handcuffs and Ziva was doing the same with a hospital corpsman who'd made their short list of possible sympathizers, the second terrorist slammed his head back into the face of the Navy military police officer attempting to restrain him. Out of the corner of her eye, Ziva saw the stowaway raise his arm from under the sheet covering him and knew what was coming._

"_Jethro! Down!" she shouted even as she shoved the handcuffed corpsman into Malachi's hands and raised her own Sig all in one smooth move._

_Putting herself between the gunman and Gibbs without conscious thought, she aimed and fired. One clean shot in the center of the would-be assassin's forehead took care of that threat._

They eventually learned that the captain had truly known nothing about the subterfuge and the ship's doctor had only gone along with it because the terrorists had threatened to hurt his family if he didn't.

After finishing up at the scene, they'd allowed the suspect Gibbs had captured to stew for a while in the interrogation room at NCIS. Thanks to Abby and the man's fingerprints, they now knew his name to be Ja'far Fakhoury.

He was in leg shackles that were chained to the handcuffs he wore. Another chain attached his cuffs to a bar under the table, further restricting his movements and making a not-so-subtle point about his position.

"Special Agent Gibbs," Jethro said brusquely as he and Ziva entered the room. He took the seat across from Ja'far as he tossed a file on the table, then tilted his head toward Ziva who leaned indolently against the wall for now. "Mossad Officer Ziva David."

The man's expression had been alternating between nerves and defiance, but now he froze and paled.

A cold, satisfied smile curved Ziva's lips.

"I see my reputation has preceded me," she murmured.

Gibbs laid out what they knew and gave the man plenty of opportunity to spill the specifics of the terrorist act they were planning, but, so far, he was holding out. Ziva, who was well-versed in the kind of interrogation techniques that did not normally take place in this room, was running out of patience.

That brought them to the present moment when Ziva slammed her hand on the table as she got into Fakhoury's face.

When not even that got the response they wanted, Ziva looked at Gibbs, gave the camera recording the interview the briefest of glances with a flick of her eyes, and returned her gaze to him.

Gibbs stood, turned toward the one-way mirror, and made the "cut it off" motion at his throat with his hand.

The red light blinked out.

If anything, Ja'far paled even further under his dusky skin.

Ziva took the seat across from him as she pulled out her knife and ostensibly began examining it closely. The terrorist's eyes were glued to it with horrified fascination.

"Well," she drawled. "I suppose we have nothing further to discuss until I get you on Israeli soil." She looked up from her knife to stare at him with cold detachment. "You will talk then."

Her prediction dripped with confidence.

"You, you cannot just put me on a plane to Israel," the man protested, even though he was fairly certain this officer in front of him could and would do exactly that.

Her reputation had indeed preceded her.

Ziva chuckled mirthlessly.

"Oh, Ja'far," she drawled insolently. "Of course I can. However, I do not need to put you on a plane and fly twelve hours to get you on Israeli soil."

Without looking away from the beginning-to-be-terrified man in front of her, she cast a question to Gibbs, taking a chance that he would make the leap with her.

"Have the proper people at the embassy been notified that we are coming?"

Without missing a beat, he nodded.

"Transport's on its way," he answered. "Had 'em send over an embassy vehicle. Diplomatic plates, not likely to be stopped. Dark windows. Bulletproof."

Gibbs looked at Ja'far dispassionately.

"Soundproof."

Inside, Ziva pumped her fist. _Yes!_

While her focus remained primarily on the job at hand, part of her was flying high on how in sync they were in this.

"We'll pull into the garage, head directly to the basement," Jethro finished.

"Perfect."

She gazed at Fakhoury unblinkingly.

"You are aware that the embassy is considered Israeli soil, yes?"

And, as such, subject to Israeli laws and customs.

Ja'far was silent for a little longer.

Ziva waited him out, allowing the situation to sink in. Then she stood, taking perverse satisfaction in the fact that he flinched as she did.

"It appears we are at a standstill until we move this …" She paused meaningfully. "… interview to the other location."

She and Gibbs made to leave and the man decided that the two people in front of him were scarier than those he reported to, who were currently various distances away.

Besides, he thought he could get away with making something up or giving them part of it.

He was wrong.

Working as smoothly as if they'd been partners all their lives, Gibbs and Ziva played him like a well-tuned instrument until they had the details they needed.

Four more operatives.

Three other modes of entry into the U.S.

Bombing at The Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C. three weeks from now during the twentieth anniversary ceremony that was scheduled to be attended by various American and Israeli politicians, visitors … school children.

Organized by a small faction within Hamas, it was a blow consciously orchestrated not so much to cause wide-spread damage, but to inflict pain and horror, to induce the kind of terror that was embedded into the DNA of every Jew in the world.

Y_es, you should be afraid, __very__ afraid_. _Remember what happened before?_

Ziva went completely still as he all but sucker-punched her with that, though her expression did not change.

However, a red haze dropped over Jethro's vision and he practically slammed the guy's head into the table.

"Just because she could kick your sorry, worthless ass with one arm tied behind her back, doesn't mean I won't. Got plenty of room in my morgue beside your buddy and no one but us even knows you're here." The words were delivered in a low growl that had Fakhoury shaking in his boots.

Her partner in every way but formally, Gibbs held the suspect's face down with a hand on his neck, hanging on to his own control by the skin of his teeth. He stayed that way until he felt the subtle pressure of Ziva's foot against his under the table. He looked at her, his eyes stormy. Given that Ja'far was facing away from her, she allowed a look just for her lover that whispered _Thank you_ and _I am all right_ to slip past her stony façade.

Gibbs slowly allowed the other man up and then took a stand behind Ziva, sending an unspoken message of support and protection without undermining her in the least.

Ziva's eyes hardened as they threw daggers at the man across from her. To further make certain that he understood she meant business, she stabbed her knife point-down into the table in front of him.

He swallowed. Hard.

"I will see you dead before I allow you to harm any of my people," she promised him in a deadly quiet voice, choosing his mother tongue of Arabic for added emphasis and to make sure there was no misunderstanding. "It is because of you and those like you that the state of Israel will exist, _must_ exist. Rest assured we will protect ourselves by any means necessary."

Visibly shaken, Ja'far became more forthcoming with the rest of the details.

Later, when they were finally satisfied they'd wrung all the information they could out of him, Ziva turned and looked at Malachi through the one-way glass as though she could see him. With an almost imperceptible nod, she sent him off to relay what they now knew to Tel Aviv.

She and Gibbs met Tony, McGee and Vance in the hall. Jethro asked about the corpsman that had been interrogated by Tony and Malachi – _sang like a bird, cried like a baby _– and then instructed his agents to get Fakhoury into a holding cell in solitary confinement, well away from his compadre.

Vance announced he would bring Homeland into the loop, as well as the NCIS offices in Miami and New York, which were to be the points of entry for the other terrorists. He headed off to do just that, as well as to touch base with his old friend Eli David.

Jethro told Tim and Tony to call it a night once the prisoner was secured, as there was nothing more to do while the information they'd all collected was being disseminated.

It had been a helluva day.

As soon as they were alone, Ziva resolutely focused on the man beside her rather than on the one who wanted to see her and hers dead. She reached for that excited feeling that had burst within her like the brightest of sunlight as they'd worked together in perfect harmony.

She pushed Jethro into the darkened, now-empty observation room. Crowding him up against the wall by the door, she grabbed the lapels of his sport coat in both hands and yanked him down to plant a hard, fiercely pleased kiss on his mouth.

"That was amazing," she observed with feeling. Her eyes snapped with satisfaction … power … excitement. A heady mix, to be sure. "We should work together more often."

Then she stretched up on tip-toe to breathe into his ear.

"And you are _so _getting laid as soon as we leave here."

She scraped her teeth over his earlobe as she finished in a throaty murmur.

"In fact, we may not even make it out of the parking garage."

Gibbs lost his breath somewhere in the middle of his chest for a moment before an airy chuckle tinged with wonder escaped his throat.

"Lucky me," he murmured, his hands settling on her hips as he nuzzled her throat.

"I believe that applies to both of us," she returned with a sexy smile.

_Ahem._

The sound of a throat clearing nearby nudged them apart, though not far. Malachi stood in the doorway to the room with an unreadable look in his eye that held a hint of challenge.

"I have conveyed the information to the Director," he informed Ziva, the deference in his tone giving away the high esteem in which he held Eli David. "He is sending assistance."

"We do not need 'assistance' here," Ziva denied. "He can send operatives to New York and Miami, but we are more than capable of handling this in D.C. Besides, we have Gibbs and his team. They have proven to be very capable, as well."

Malachi switched to Hebrew.

"You mean _you _have Gibbs," he snarked with a disgruntled flash in his eyes.

Ziva's eyes narrowed and she pinned him with her gaze.

"When did you two work out that bit about the embassy?" Malachi asked in English, attempting to deflect that look. "Impressive."

Though he sounded more put-out than impressed.

"Didn't," Gibbs responded. "Just followed her lead."

"Yes," the other man returned. "Ziva gives good lead."

Jethro stiffened as Ben-Gidon stared at Ziva almost tauntingly. Her eyes narrowed even further.

Malachi barely stopped himself from shifting. Being on the other side of that look from Ziva would give anyone the urge to run for his life, even him.

And, honestly, he had no idea why he was out of sorts after watching her work so seamlessly with another agent other than the fact that it should have been _him_ in that room with her. He wanted a piece of that guy and he'd yet to have the opportunity to get it.

_His _people were targeted, _his_ colleagues had gathered the intel that had brought them to this place.

She was _his _partner.

Besides, they were Mossad, surely better-trained than this American.

He was fair enough to begrudgingly acknowledge to himself that this NCIS team leader was as skilled as any other agent he'd ever come across.

That didn't mean he had to say it out loud right then.

"Jealousy does not become you, Malachi," Ziva informed him in a deadly quiet voice. "Nor is it warranted, as you well know."

Brown eyes locked on brown. Ben-Gidon was the first to look away.

"My apologies," Malachi offered, though he lacked something in the sincerity department. Then he took a breath, and offered a conciliatory observation. "Truly, that was excellent work. Both of you."

And it had been. Just because he was in a snit that he had been forced into second position with interviewing the Navy corpsman who hadn't proved to be a challenge once he'd realized what the sum of money he'd accepted to betray his country had actually cost him, didn't mean he should take it out on his partner – or her lover.

"Get some rest, Malachi," Ziva dismissed him. "We have more work to do tomorrow."

He acknowledged her words with a tilt of his head and stopped himself from asking if she was coming to the hotel.

Of course she wasn't.

"Goodnight, Ziva. Agent Gibbs."

Then he walked away.

Ziva stared after him for a moment, displeased with his behavior. Then she pushed the door closed and turned to the man next to her. She wanted no misunderstandings between them.

Gibbs was silent, feeling like he should say something, but not quite sure what. He'd gotten a vibe he couldn't completely decipher from Ben-Gidon before this, but had dismissed it as posturing from someone who had been slightly displaced from his usual position. He'd assumed that was professional.

Maybe it was also personal.

Ziva laid a hand on his chest and rested her body lightly against his, uncharacteristically needing to soothe.

"We work well together, but there is nothing else between us," Ziva told him quietly, firmly, looking him straight in the eye.

"He want there to be?" Gibbs asked, still not quite sure what he was feeling inside.

Besides some jealousy of his own.

Ziva's lips curved in a sardonic smile.

"Malachi wants whatever he thinks will place him in our director's highest regard," she answered. "Occasionally, he convinces himself that involves me on a personal basis, but nothing has ever come of that. I am not interested in being with someone who wants my father more than me and he has no right to be jealous."

Something in her tone suggested her current Mossad partner was not the only person with whom she'd had such an experience, had maybe even been burned before she'd learned that lesson.

Now who wanted to soothe?

Gibbs wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her cheek with his nose before skimming his lips along her jaw to her ear.

"You know I don't give a damn who your father is, right?" he murmured.

Ziva gave him a genuine, delighted smile and relaxed against him.

"Why, Special Agent Gibbs," she drawled as she slid her arms up his chest to twine about his neck. "That may be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me."

He snorted.

"Hell, Ziva, even I can do better than that."

She laughed and brushed her lips over his.

"Of that, I have no doubt," she murmured in a sultry voice that ghosted down his spine.

"Most people would," he shared quietly. She looked at him with her brows gathered in some confusion, so he clarified, "Doubt that."

Ah.

"I am not most people," she pointed out. Her eyes gentled and she pressed closer to him. "And you are not 'most people' to me."

"No?" he murmured in a decidedly roguish voice as he turned her adroitly so she was trapped between his hardening body and the door.

He nipped and licked at her neck. God, he had this thing for her neck.

And the rest of her.

She shook her head as her body unconsciously melted into his.

"No. There is most definitely something _between_ us," she breathed, tilting her hips into him before shifting her thighs so her center was pressed against one of his legs and his swelling shaft was rubbing against her. Her eyes snapped with a sexy mischievousness at her double entendre that made him grin. "And I like it. A lot."

"Same goes," he murmured, allowing his hands to roam a bit.

He'd been itching to get his hands on her again for hours, but he'd pushed it aside for the work. She was dressed all in black from head to toe, relieved only by the silver on her belt buckle. There was nothing especially revealing about the lightly fitted clothing, but she looked _hot_. Her take-charge, kick-ass demeanor during the interrogation had only fanned the flames of his desire for her.

Ziva tilted her head back so she could see his face and brought one hand forward to cup his cheek so she could bring his attention to her words.

"And while _you_ have every right to feel jealous," she told him with slight emphasis before capturing his eyes with hers, "you have no cause."

She pulled his head toward hers, her gaze roaming over his handsome features appreciatively.

Stretching up slowly, enticingly closer, she repeated in a sexy murmur, "No cause."

Then she took his mouth in a soft kiss that slid over his lips and every nerve ending in his body before she licked her way into his mouth and all but devoured him.

His head immediately full of nothing but her, he gave as good as he got.

Pulses pounding, breath coming faster, their kiss went on and on. She wrapped one leg around his hip and pulled him in even closer. He gladly went, pushing her more firmly into the door, relishing the way her soft curves molded to him.

Ziva wound both arms around his neck again like silken ropes from which he had no interest in escaping. One hand cupped the back of his head, fingers spearing into his hair.

She couldn't get enough of him.

Had the breathtaking, heart-stopping sense that perhaps she never would.

Their lips parted just enough for air, though their mouths never lost contact with each other's skin. The tide of desire crashing over them pulled them under, oblivious to everything else.

"Take me," she breathed into his ear.

His whole body reacted to her command.

"Ziva –" he began in a weak attempt at protesting.

"Take me," she demanded provocatively again, her dark eyes meeting his. "Right here. Right now."

He grabbed for the elusive reins of his control as she captured his lips again. Hell, he'd never had sex at NCIS.

Then, leaving his belt still fastened, she unzipped his pants and dipped inside his underwear to take him in her hand ... and he admitted to himself that he was about to.

With his last coherent thought, he locked the door.

In a fevered rush, he managed to get her pants, underwear and boots off, though she didn't make it easy on him, unable to stop touching him somewhere, anywhere, everywhere.

He rose to his feet and took her naked ass firmly in his hands to boost her up.

With that sexy little noise of hers, she lined him up at her hot, drenched entrance and gratefully took him inside her with a pleasure that was almost fierce in its intensity.

Their coupling was fast and desperate and sizzling hot.

And completely, totally, bone-meltingly satisfying.

Afterward, he locked his knees and rested all his weight against her to keep them from landing on the floor. Her legs still gripped his hips, his softening shaft still inside her warm, flooded center.

Their faces nuzzled tenderly as they shared a satisfied, affectionate chuckle, smiled blissfully as they kissed.

He tucked his face in her neck and breathed her in. She held him to her, one hand buried in his hair.

She released a happy sigh and turned her head to press a kiss to his forehead.

"Thank you," she said quietly, with feeling.

"Thank _you_," he returned suggestively with a smile without moving an inch.

Her lips curved as she kissed his brow again, then leaned her head back against the door and raised his gaze to hers with a gentle hand under his chin.

Running her fingertips through his hair and over his cheek, she clarified.

"I meant about earlier. In there." She tilted her head toward the glass that looked into the interrogation room.

He looked at her quizzically. She smiled slightly as her heart fluttered with tenderness. He really had no clue.

"You wanted to hurt him – for me. You stood up for me."

"Well, yeah," he mumbled, slightly embarrassed and unable to imagine why anyone wouldn't.

"Just because it comes naturally to you, does not mean it is casual. It is more than that," she maintained, her eyes on his, her palm cupping his jaw. "I am usually the one doing the standing, both for myself and for others. Having you do that for me … it means something."

She pressed a soft kiss to his lips before finishing.

"You have this urge to protect me and yet you never make me feel as though you believe I cannot take care of myself. That means something, too."

"Just 'cause I know you can, doesn't mean I don't want to," he told her, looking into her big brown eyes.

Her smile was pleased, yet a little bashful as she tucked her face into his throat and hugged him tightly.

Then, because the feelings blooming between them were becoming almost more intense than she could handle in that moment, Ziva deliberately lightened the mood.

She lifted her head and allowed her eyes to flit around the dimly-lit space they were in.

"Well, it is no storage room," she observed, "but it is slightly more private than the parking garage would have been."

He nearly snorted against her ear, causing her to grin before she pressed her lips to his cheek again.

God, he loved being with her. It was more than sex, it was … just … more.

The next day she moved out of her hotel room, not even pretending any longer that she was going to stay anywhere but with him.

Ziva convinced her father that she and Malachi should stay until after the anniversary ceremony at the museum to make certain they had completely foiled the terrorist plot. She sensed he wasn't completely buying her reasons for just why she and her partner should remain in D.C. longer, but, oddly, he did not press her too far.

Out of a reflexive need for self-preservation, she avoided acknowledging even to herself all of the reasons she wanted to stay.

She and Gibbs enjoyed as much time as they could together over the next three weeks as they teamed with Homeland Security and liaisoned with additional Mossad agents in two other cities and one other country to capture the remaining four men involved in this nefarious scheme.

It was a good day when they were present to ensure that the anniversary ceremony at the museum went off without a hitch.

During that time, Ziva and Jethro worked together, lived together, loved together …

Until she had to leave.

* * *

_A/N: No political opinions are expressed here. The US Holocaust Museum opened April 22, 1993. Thanks for reading!_


	4. Missing

Jethro sat on the stool in his basement and leaned heavily back against the concrete wall. He raised the nail jar that held a finger's worth of bourbon to his lips and took a healthy swallow.

God, he missed her.

Kept thinking of things he should have told her …

Like how he didn't want the night she left to be goodbye.

He looked down at the envelope he held in his other hand. He didn't recognize the return address except for the name: _Z. David._

For reasons he couldn't put into words, Jethro was waffling between tearing open the envelope and drawing out the process as long as possible.

She'd been gone for two weeks and it still felt as raw as if she'd left yesterday.

Had they really only known each other for a month before that? Only been together for just over three of those weeks? In the best way possible, it seemed much longer than that.

Not for the first time, he let himself wander through that time in his mind.

* * *

_Flashback_

They spent most of that first weekend enjoying each other … talking … kissing … making love. They clicked in a way that was almost scary to accept, so, in tacit agreement, they _didn't_ talk about that.

After having to scrounge for breakfast after they finally left his bed Saturday morning, Ziva announced they were going to the grocery store so that she could cook. With her along, the boring task that he normally avoided as much as possible wasn't so bad.

And he'd had no clue just how erotic a trip through the produce section could be until he got hot and bothered watching as she handled, smelled, _squeezed_ various fruits and vegetables … the cucumber being the last straw. She caught his hiss of need at that point and playfully tapped her chin with the item in question as her eyes teased him unmercifully.

She laughed delightedly as he tossed the cucumber into their basket and grabbed her hand to haul her to the checkout.

He had no idea how he got them home without wrecking his truck considering most of his attention and at least one of his hands were on her the entire ride.

And both of hers were on him.

They were barely in the door at home before jumping each other.

"Wall sex," he decreed, referring to their options from the night before.

"Definitely wall sex," she answered breathlessly, practically crawling up the front of him.

One last thought tried to make it through the haze of desire.

"The milk?" she mumbled against his mouth, not really caring if she had to go out and buy more at that point.

"Trust me – this isn't going to take that long."

* * *

He'd been right.

And he hadn't been back to the market without her.

* * *

The gray morning they'd woken up to that first day gave way to a rainy Saturday that begged for working on his boat in the basement together followed by snuggling in front of a fire, which is exactly what they did – neither of them admitting out loud that such a thing was not the norm for them.

The weather outside increased their feeling of seclusion from the rest of the world, further cocooning them in a sense of intimacy that went beyond the physical. They pulled his couch over in front of the fireplace and sat there well into the night … talking … eating … drinking a bottle of wine … making love.

She shared that her mother had left her father when she was fourteen when he'd stepped outside his marriage with a young, attractive, determined Mossad officer … and then her mother had died suddenly, traumatically two years later, leaving Ziva and Tali to live with their father once again.

He learned of the loss of her sister, Tali, in a suicide bombing and Ziva's relentless pursuit of revenge against every member of the terrorist cell responsible. They refrained from acknowledging their similarity in that, but it all but reverberated silently between them, further connecting them.

Ziva wordlessly held Gibbs close as he spoke out loud for only the second time in his life about losing his mother when he was sixteen, as well, when she'd taken her own life rather than wait for her illness to turn her into someone she couldn't bear for her husband and son to see, to have to take care of. Again, their common ground was deeply felt, but remained unvoiced.

She asked curiously, but not judgmentally about his marriages, and he asked if she'd ever been married. She shook her head.

_I think you have been married enough for both of us and thank you for taking care of that. I cannot imagine ever getting married myself._

* * *

He moved his memory forward and flashes of her face, visions of her spread beneath him, heartfelt words, bits of conversations tumbled through his mind, some that made him so hard in an instant he thought he might explode … like waking up that first Saturday morning to the feeling of her mouth all over him, the erotic words she'd breathed into his ear after she'd pleasured him.

_I want to swallow so much of your cum that I will never forget the taste of you._

The sight of the hickey he'd left on her neck that had filled him with a sense of satisfaction so intense that it shocked him.

Being at home in bed three nights later, after he'd thanked her for saving his life that day. She'd cupped his jaw in her hand, her thumb smoothing over his cheek bone, as she gazed into his eyes.

_Your life is very important to me. I will always save you whenever it is in my power to do so._

Since she'd been gone, he slept on the couch and kept putting off washing his sheets because now and then he would lie on his bed thinking of her and catch a whiff of her scent, letting it wash over him. One night, he pushed a hand under his pillow and found the red shirt she'd worn that first night she'd come home with him. It smelled even more like her than his sheets and the only thing that stopped him from tucking it inside the pillow case he was using on the couch was the feeling that he was acting like a love-struck teenager.

Finally, he remembered the day she had to leave …

* * *

_Flashback_

Gibbs looked up as the elevator dinged. He was expecting Ziva to come get him for lunch once she was finished with a meeting involving Homeland Security, the FBI, the CIA and the White House following the successful anniversary celebration at The Holocaust Museum the day before.

Sure enough, it was she that walked around the edge of the cubicle next to his. His welcoming smile that automatically pulled at him as he laid eyes on her dimmed at the look in her eyes, at the slight smile that didn't quite reach those brown depths.

He stood and met her halfway.

"What's wrong?"

She just shook her head slightly. With a surreptitious squeeze of his fingers as she said a quick hello to Tim and Tony, she sent a silent message that she'd tell him privately.

Within minutes, Gibbs had her in his office with the stop switch thrown. He looked down at her, his hand under her chin to raise her eyes to his.

"My fa-, _director_ called," she husked haltingly, revealingly. "I have to leave."

His stomach clenched.

He put his arms around her and hugged her close. She laid her head against his chest and held him in return.

"When?" he managed.

"Midnight," she whispered.

The bottom fell out of his world.

"Tonight?"

She nodded, fighting to hold back the tide of emotion that was threatening to pull her under now that she was with him and he was holding her.

This wasn't supposed to have happened.

Being with Jethro was supposed to have stayed just incredibly satisfying sex with a handsome, intriguing man that she genuinely liked on so many levels. Not so much a relationship as two consenting adults enjoying each other.

It had turned out to be … so much more.

And her heart was certainly not supposed to have gotten involved at all.

But it had.

Her father would undoubtedly be disgusted at her show of weakness as she held tightly to the man in her arms, seeking to absorb some of Jethro's strength for herself, but she couldn't bring herself to care just then. She was struggling to find her usual sense of balance in the face of feeling like her world had unexpectedly been yanked out from beneath her.

Gibbs breathed out a sigh of shock and frustration. He rubbed one hand gently up and down her spine in an unconscious attempt to soothe them both.

"We knew," she whispered.

But she hadn't known just how much she would feel like she was about to leave the best part of her life on this side of the planet.

She tilted her head back and looked up at him with sad eyes and an attempt at a smile.

Cupping his jaw in her hand, she urged his head down until she could lean her forehead against his.

"We knew," she repeated softly.

But he hadn't known just how necessary she would come to feel to him in an obscenely short period of time.

"Yeah," he sighed, resting his cheek on her hair.

"Do you think …" Ziva stopped herself and shook her head slightly. "Never mind – you have to work."

"What?" he asked.

She opened her mouth, then closed it without a word.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against the shell of her ear.

Ziva looked into his eyes, her soul laid bare.

"You," she husked. "I want you … until I have to …" She stopped, then forced the last word past the lump in her throat. "Go."

"Me, too," he agreed with feeling.

Reaching out, he flipped the switch to start the elevator again and punched the floor that would take them to the parking garage. Walking to his truck, he called Leon and took the rest of the day off.

They spent the next several hours wrapped around each other in his bed … making love … whispering … remembering … sharing.

They both swallowed promises they weren't sure could be kept – and the words that didn't come easily to either of them.

As the time drew near for them to shower and dress for the ride to the Navy Yard landing strip where a Mossad plane waited, Gibbs shared some of what was on his heart as he lay with his head cradled against her chest.

"Knew you'd have to leave," he said quietly. He tilted his head back and looked into her eyes. "Didn't know how much I wouldn't want you to."

"I did not either," she whispered hoarsely, tracing her eyes and fingers over his handsome features as though memorizing every line, every facet.

In fact, she was.

At ten before midnight, they stood on the tarmac as Malachi oversaw the confinement of the prisoners on the plane. All the Hamas operatives that had been captured stateside and the additional Mossad agents who'd first been to Miami and New York were making the return trip, as well.

Once his task was finished, Malachi descended the steps of the aircraft and walked up to Ziva and Jethro as they stood side by side.

"We are set," he told Ziva, then turned his attention to Gibbs. He held out his hand and shook the older man's hand. "Thank you for your assistance, Agent Gibbs." With a faint smile, he added, "And for not holding it against me when I stepped out of line."

While he occasionally entertained the idea of more, Ziva was, above all, his partner and his friend – and even he could see that this man was good for her. He couldn't help but feel that it was too bad they were about to live an ocean apart again … this time in full knowledge that the other was out there.

Wanting.

Jethro managed a ghost of a smile and a nod.

Malachi looked at Ziva. "We will leave whenever you are ready."

He held out his hand for her backpack, which she surrendered with a murmured, "_Toda_."

Ben-Gidon walked back up the steps of the plane, leaving them alone together.

Ziva stepped into Jethro's arms and just held on to him for a moment, attempting to soak one last memory of him into her very being. Then she slid one hand behind his neck and pulled him down for a kiss that was soft and warm and tender and clinging … and said the goodbye she couldn't force past her lips.

She released his mouth, then came back once, twice more before holding his face in her hands.

"Take care of yourself, Special Agent Gibbs," she directed him emotionally, her eyes on his. "The world is a better place with you in it."

"You, too," he managed.

With another soft, brief kiss, Ziva turned away and started toward the plane. A few steps away, she stopped.

His heart stuttered.

She whirled around and flew back into the arms he held open for her. They shared a kiss that was frantic and full of all they couldn't say.

One of the tears sparkling in her brown eyes spilled over and trailed down her cheek as she kissed him long and hard and desperately.

After endless minutes, she pulled away, swiping at her cheek as she wordlessly walked swiftly away with the squared-shoulders stride of a soldier.

Tucking her hands into the pockets of the long cloth coat she wore, Ziva kept her focus on the plane in front of her, afraid if she turned back again, she wouldn't leave.

* * *

He hadn't heard from her since.

Until he found this letter in his mail today after arriving home from work, where he'd been finding excuses to stay even later than usual to avoid coming home to a house that felt empty without her.

Felt emptier, not less so, as time went on.

Unable to hold off any longer, he pried open the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of paper. Her handwriting was as neat and attractive as the rest of her.

_Dear Jethro,_

_Since you do not have e-mail at home and I do not want to send this to your work, I decided to write an "old-fashioned" letter. This feels more like you, anyway. _

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

_I have been - how do you say it? off the radar? under the grid? something like that - nearly since I have been back, as work took me out of the country again … just not to yours this time._

_I wish it had – taken me to yours, that is._

_I hope you are well. I keep thinking of things that perhaps I should have said to you. I find myself wondering if you are doing that, too._

He was.

Was glad to know she was, too.

_I also cannot help but wonder … have you been back to that place where we danced our first night together? And, if so, did that red head with her eye on you succeed in capturing your attention this time? (While you deserve to be happy, yes, I am glaring in her direction just thinking about it.)_

He could just picture that. Picture her. Couldn't help but grin.

_And I wonder … do you think about me … as often as I think of you?_

If she thought of him nearly every hour of every day, then yeah, he did.

And he had no idea just how long she'd wavered indecisively about how to sign the letter, eventually settling for just _Ziva._

He glanced at his watch and realized it was 5:00 a.m. the next day in Tel Aviv. From living with her he knew that, if she was home, she'd be about ready to go for a run. Impulsively, he took out his phone, found her in his contacts and called her.

Half a world away, Ziva paused in the act of tying her athletic shoes and looked at her phone in surprise. When she saw _Gibbs_ on her display, her heart thumped in her chest as a slow smile brightened her face.

She picked up her phone and wandered over to stare out the window toward the west, as though she could see him if she just looked hard enough.

"Good morning," she said warmly, her smile coming through her voice. "Although, it is still night for you, yes?"

"Yeah, but morning to you," he returned with a smile of his own.

There was a brief pause as they both wondered what to say, where to start.

"Got your letter," he shared.

"Good," she said softly. Then she caught herself up short, hating the slight awkwardness between them as they tried to find each other again, the uncertainty that reared its ugly head once more that perhaps he felt it was best to just move on. She asked carefully, "It _is_ good, yes?"

"Yeah," he assured her. "And, no; wouldn't matter even if that answer was yes, no; yes; and not sure – how often do you think about me?"

Her brow had wrinkled in confusion as he started seemingly answering questions out of the blue, then she realized he was addressing the end of her letter.

Her smile grew.

And her heart melted.

In her mind, she went back over what she had written … she'd read it enough to have memorized it while deliberating over whether to send it. When she realized he hadn't gone back to that bar without her – and that he wouldn't have been interested in the red head even if he had – her pulse rate kicked up in a happy dance.

And he thought about her … sigh.

She was _very_ happy to hear that.

Then she realized he was waiting expectantly. What had he asked her?

Oh. Yes.

"I think about you every day," she revealed quietly. "Far too many times to count."

"Then, yeah, I do think about you as often as you think about me."

Now her heart cheered. Soared.

"That is very good to hear," she husked, her brilliant smile reflected in her voice.

And with that, they found their groove again, the one that had come so naturally to them from the moment they'd met.

Uncharacteristically for both of them except with each other, they talked for nearly an hour about everything and nothing, until she reluctantly had to get ready for work.

Sensing their conversation was drawing to a close, Jethro 'fessed up about having her shirt.

"If I admit I found one of your shirts under my pillow, will you make me send it back?"

On the other side of the world, her lips twitched before she made a provocative confession of her own.

"Will you feel like you were back in high school if I admit I left it there for you to find?"

She pictured his characteristic grin as his slight chuckle drew one from her, and that sense of emotional intimacy that had flared between them almost from the first closed all but the physical distance between them.

Their conversation rested for a moment in companionable silence.

"I am glad you called," she told him softly. She hesitated for just a breath before adding, "I miss you."

"Glad you wrote," he returned. "Miss you, too."

"Perhaps we can talk again soon?" she wondered almost hesitantly.

"Count on it," he responded firmly.

"Goodbye, Jethro."

And while he normally hung up without saying goodbye, he found he couldn't do that to her.

"Bye, Ziva."

After he closed his phone, he sat there leaning against the wall, the Ziva-shaped hole in his heart both smaller and bigger for having talked to her.

He had no idea how he was going to manage missing her so much, but one thing was for sure: he wasn't ready to let go of her.


	5. Reconnecting

_One month later …_

"Thank you, Mr. President," Ziva said respectfully, with feeling. "Yes, I will see you then."

She pressed _End_ on her phone and sat back in her office chair, too astounded to move - only continued breathing because her body automatically took care of that for her.

She needed to think for a moment.

A moment turned into an hour as Ziva considered from every angle the completely unexpected offer she'd just received.

And then all she could think about was Jethro.

She started to pick her phone back up to call him, then she paused.

There was someone else she needed to talk to first.

Ziva walked down the hall to her father's office. His secretary looked up.

"Hello, Ziva," she said pleasantly. "The Director is expecting you."

Ziva shook her head internally. Of course he was. She'd privately thought for years that there was nothing the man did not know.

Besides, she would never have received that phone call from the leader of the United States if the Director of Mossad had not already given his blessing to such an arrangement involving one of his officers.

She tapped lightly, then entered as directed.

Her father looked up, then laid his glasses on the papers in front of him and leaned back in his chair, considering her, as she closed the door behind her and approached his desk.

"It appears you have impressed the American president enough that he is trying to steal my best officer – and my daughter," Eli observed.

She didn't know quite how to answer that, so she said nothing.

"So, when do you leave?"

"You make it sound as though my decision has already been made," Ziva prevaricated, her gaze focused slightly to the right of him.

"Hasn't it?" he asked knowingly. He tented his fingers as he regarded her. He continued softly, "After all, you left your heart in America. Now you have an opportunity to rejoin it."

Her eyes jumped to his in shock.

Eli stood and came to her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Did you really think I would not be able to tell?" he asked.

Again, she had no idea what to say, so she kept quiet. Long ago, she'd given up on expecting Eli David to act like a father first, then a director, so when he occasionally did just that, she was always taken aback.

"Change comes with uncertainty and there are aspects of this move that are not easy for me, but perhaps it is the best thing for you in more ways than one," he acknowledged, astonishing her again. Then an arrogant twinkle came into his eye. "And I will admit that having one of Mossad's finest in charge of a multi-national anti-terrorism task force is not without its appeal."

Ziva smiled a little. There was the director-who-happened-to-be-her-father with whom she was well acquainted.

Then her expression turned more serious again. She hesitated, then stepped toward what she wanted, toward being more than the sharp end of the spear she had been groomed to be.

She still was that, it was just that now she wanted … more.

"This is an incredible opportunity I would be drawn to accept even without Jethro, but I cannot deny …" She paused for a moment and then confidently returned her gaze to Eli's. "He is a good man, _aba._"

"So my research has revealed," he agreed. He arched a brow at her look of surprise. "Zivaleh, surely you did not think I would send you off into the arms of a man I knew nothing about?"

She snorted out a breath and shook her head slightly.

"Although, I imagine your Agent Gibbs and I will bump heads from time to time. I do believe we both have very strong ideas about things."

She heard nothing after the word Gibbs.

_Her__ Agent Gibbs._

She hoped so. Really, really hoped so.

Eli noticed that his daughter's attention had wandered, and he had a strong feeling about where it had gone.

Or, to whom, he should say.

He cupped her face in his hands, bringing her focus back to him.

"You will always have a place here, Ziva," he promised quietly. "Do not hesitate to return if this is where you belong."

"_Toda, aba_," she whispered, raising her hand to her shoulder to press one of his.

* * *

Ziva returned to her seat after freshening up in the miniscule excuse for a bathroom on the commercial flight that was carrying her back to D.C.

Back to Jethro.

In preparation for landing, she'd brushed her hair and her teeth, washed up in hidden and not so hidden places, and applied a light layer of makeup with a hand that wanted to tremble with excitement.

_Jethro._

Her heart was racing.

She thought back over the whirlwind that had been the last few days.

After speaking with her father on Monday, she'd left work early to go home and call Jethro, as she'd wanted to be alone when she did.

* * *

_Flashback_

Gibbs sat at his desk trying with little success to keep his attention on the reports he was supposed to be reviewing. It was 9:30 in the morning and he was already on his fourth cup of coffee. However, his favorite brew was not even taking the edge off what he really wanted.

_Ziva._

He missed her.

They'd spoken on the phone several times over the past month, including yesterday, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to see her. He was about ready to have McGee help him do that Skyping thing she'd suggested.

She wanted to see him, too.

At first, they'd tip-toed around saying out loud what they both wanted. Then, during a late-night-for-him call when Ziva had come awake in her pre-dawn hours dreaming about him, rolling over reaching for him, she'd impulsively called him right then ... had sleepily, longingly revealed that she knew it was crazy and probably impossible, but she wanted him, wanted to be with him … wanted no one else but him.

With a sense of relief that took one weight off his chest, he'd admitted he felt the same.

They had yet to figure out exactly how to make that happen.

That was the weight that still sat heavily on his heart.

To hell with the computer, he decided. He'd have McGee book him on a flight to Israel. God knows he had more vacation than he knew what to do with because he never took any.

His phone rang and he automatically checked the display.

Then he smiled.

Apparently she was thinking about him, too.

He stood up from his desk and answered as he walked away from the others in the bullpen.

"Hey," he greeted her warmly. Then he had a nerve-wracking thought. She never called him when he was likely to be working, such as during the first shift his team was typically scheduled to cover – and she should have still been at work, too. "Everything okay?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed.

If he only knew just _how_ okay.

"I will make this quick as I know you are working, yes?"

"Yeah, but I'd rather be talking to you." He paused for a second, then shared, "Rather be _seeing_ you."

"Well then, perhaps you will be happy to hear that I thought I would come for a visit."

He could sense barely-suppressed excitement running beneath her words, reaching for him across the miles.

"Here? When?" He practically leapt on top of her words with his questions.

"Yes, there. To you," she reassured him, smiling. "How about this Friday?"

"How about today?" he asked hopefully.

Her delighted laugh washed over him, stirring his senses.

"I have a few things to take care of first" – which was putting it mildly, since, unbeknownst to him, she was preparing to be gone for a while – "so I believe we must make do with Friday."

"I'll take it," he told her quickly. "How long can you stay?"

Not _How long are you staying?,_ but _Please stay as long as you can._

Her heart filled near to bursting.

She hoped she would be staying for a very long time.

However, she wanted to talk to him about that in person, wanted to see his face when she told him.

"I am not sure," she temporized. "We will talk about that when I get there."

Her voice dropped.

"I cannot _wait_ to see you," she admitted softly.

"Same here," he responded with feeling.

"Perhaps you would pick me up at the airport?"

"I'll take out anyone else who tries."

A flash of heat went through her as his possessive side beat its metaphoric chest. It continued to amaze her how much that side of him turned her on.

She chuckled warmly, flirtatiously.

"It is not nice of you to get me all hot when you are still thousands of miles away."

She could just picture that grin of his that she knew was gracing his lips at that moment.

"Now, I will let you get back to work," she said affectionately, if a little reluctantly. "I will call you with my flight information."

They paused for a moment, neither wanting to let the other go.

Finally, Ziva said warmly, "Goodbye, Jethro." She was thrilled to be able to add, "I will see you soon."

"Sounds good," he returned in the understatement of the year. "Bye."

Friday couldn't get here soon enough.

* * *

_Back to the present …_

The plane taxied to a stop around three o'clock on Friday afternoon. El Al did not fly on Shabbat, so she'd pushed to be able to leave in time to arrive before sundown today rather than wait even another day.

Since she'd bought only a one-way ticket, Ziva had splurged on a first-class seat. She would have to go back to Israel at some point if everything worked out and she completely moved herself to the States, but for now she had simply made plans to be gone for a while.

The details of exactly where she would be staying during this trip were still to be determined.

Until after she talked to Jethro.

Since first-class passengers disembarked first, she was soon collecting her two checked bags and moving toward the line to go through Customs. She was struggling a little to manage her backpack, carry-on and two large suitcases. An attractive man about her age was right behind her. He offered his help, introducing himself as Adam.

As there was nothing but friendliness in his expression, she accepted.

Though time seemed to drag because all she could think about was the fact that Jethro was out there somewhere almost close enough to touch for the first time in six weeks, it really didn't take that long to get through Customs and airport security, even though she had to show her authorization for the gun on her person and the one in her suitcase.

There was no need to broadcast the weapons she knew they would not find.

Finally, they were through and Ziva immediately started looking for her silver-haired Marine. He'd promised to leave work early to pick her up.

"Ziva!"

Her heart started beating double-time and she turned toward his voice. He came into sight and she grinned from ear to ear.

Hurrying as fast as she could with her luggage, Ziva made a beeline for him. Belatedly remembering the nice man who was helping her with her fourth bag, she turned back, thankful to find he was right behind her.

"Go ahead, I can keep up," Adam assured her with a smile.

With a grateful grin, she turned to move forward again toward Jethro when suddenly the man she wanted more than anything was right in front of her.

In the space of a heartbeat, she'd dropped everything and was in his arms, suspended off the floor, hugging him close for a long moment, her eyes closed, simply absorbing the feel of him at first … then kissing and being kissed as though their very lives depended on it, oblivious to their surroundings.

Slowly, Gibbs allowed her feet to touch the floor and raised his head just far enough to smile down at her.

"Hi."

"Hi back," she smiled, sighing with relief to be with him again, relaxing against him completely.

"No wonder you were in hurry," an amused male voice said from nearby.

Gibbs looked for the man attached to the voice, his eyes pinning the guy with a hard gaze as his grip on Ziva tightened possessively.

_Mine_.

Ziva unconsciously rubbed his shoulder soothingly as she came back down to earth and remembered Adam.

"I am sorry for being rude," she began.

"No apology necessary," the younger man responded congenially. "If I had a greeting like that waiting for me, I'd forget about everything else, too."

Jethro and Ziva both gave him slightly embarrassed grins, though they were too happy to be together to really care.

"Thank you for helping me with my bag," Ziva told him.

"No problem," he said, adding good-naturedly before he walked away, "I would wish you a good evening, but it looks like that's a given."

Ziva and Jethro smiled into each other's eyes as everything else faded away again.

Then, Gibbs took notice of exactly how much luggage she had with her. She'd managed for an entire month the last time with just a backpack and a carryon. This was over twice as much …

"Ziva? How long you stayin'?" he asked softly, not even trying to hide the hope blooming in his piercing blue eyes.

She smiled tenderly and cupped his face in her hands.

"We will talk about that at home," she said, unthinkingly referring to his house as home. "Once I have had a shower, food and you."

She stretched up and whispered provocatively in his ear.

"And preferably not in that order."

He nearly groaned out loud and immediately whisked her – and all her bags – out to his truck. She removed her firearm from her waist and stowed it in her backpack as they were getting everything settled.

They made it home in record time, in a ride filled with stolen kisses at every stop light, affectionate murmurs and touches that further inflamed their need. By the time they'd dropped her bags in his foyer, all they could do was reach for each other.

Hungry.

So, so desperately hungry.

He wanted her in his bed, so he bent and put her over one shoulder as that was the only way he figured he might be able to get her up there instead of just taking her where she stood.

Her breathless, surprised laugh tickled down his spine and elsewhere. She took full advantage of her new position and rubbed her hands over his long, strong back and his very, very delectable ass. Yanking up the layers of clothing he wore, she touched him, kissed him, licked him, tasted him everywhere she could reach.

God, he was so yummy.

Unable to resist, she bit into him.

It was just hard enough to send shock waves of desire to every part of his body.

In his room, he kicked the door shut and tossed her down on the bed. She laughed again, giddy with happiness. She toed her shoes off and held her arms out for him as she bounced once, twice on the mattress.

He kicked off his shoes as he carelessly dropped his sport coat to the floor.

Then he was on top of her.

Gloriously on top of her.

"I need you," she muttered against his mouth, her hands tearing off his clothes as his did the same to hers. "_Now_."

He couldn't agree more.

His hands, his mouth were everywhere, unable to get enough. His tongue forged a fiery trail from her mouth to her breasts, stealing her breath. As he latched onto one nipple and found her drenched center with his fingers, her eyes rolled back up into her head as she nearly blacked out from pleasure.

Greedily, they touched, kissed, drove each other crazy.

Within moments, he was inside her, completing her.

Completing them both.

_Oh, thank God._

_Hard._

_Fast._

_More._

_More._

_More._

_Harder._

_Faster._

The words escaped her, a mix of English and Hebrew, as she begged for what she needed, reached for everything she wanted, gave him all she was, welcomed all he had to give.

All too soon and yet not nearly soon enough, her climax claimed her and she flew apart, crying out his name as she took him over the precipice with her.

Bonelessly, he all but collapsed on top of her, his head pillowed on her breasts, his ear pressed to her pounding heartbeat, grateful beyond words that she was close enough again that he could hear it.

Ziva laid with her eyes closed, her arms and legs wrapped around him as she continued to cradle him between her thighs.

"You still want me," she sighed happily when she could speak.

He slowly tipped his head back.

"Look at me," he directed quietly. He waited until she'd tilted her face toward his. "You weren't sure?"

She shrugged lightly, her faint smile a little shy. Her fingers combed through his hair and her eyes roamed over his face before she allowed him to capture her gaze.

"We have been apart twice as long as we were together like this," she pointed out softly. "So perhaps I wondered now and then."

"Stop wondering," he ordered.

Her lips twitched.

"Yes, sir," she sassed.

She paid for that when he then tickled her senseless.

"Stop! Stop!" she pleaded, laughing while trying to roll away from his merciless fingers without actually going anywhere.

He stopped and grinned down at her face.

His heart turned over in his chest.

_So beautiful._

He didn't even realize he'd said the words out loud as he brushed her mussed hair back from her face until her expression gentled.

"Thank you," she whispered, pulling his lips to hers for a long, soft, clinging kiss that was more about connection than the raging need from before.

They snuggled for a while, then showered together and ended up back in bed. After they'd made love again, they lay together, her cheek resting on his chest. One of his hands cupped her shoulder, while the other drifted up and down the long, lovely curve of her back, dipped into those sexy indentations just above her perfect ass.

He dropped his chin to gaze into her face.

"You look tired," he said gently, dropping a kiss to her hair.

"I would point out that I have been awake for nearly twenty-four hours and am unable to sleep on planes without someone I trust to watch my back, but the truth is I have not slept well since I left. I have discovered I sleep better with you than without you," she revealed drowsily into his chest.

"Me, too," he admitted. He kept to himself how he often he'd woken to find himself reaching for her in his sleep, how he'd missed her soft warmth next to him, that he hadn't been able to sleep in his bed without her. He hugged her a little more tightly, then glanced at his clock. "Nearly 1:00 a.m. in Tel Aviv. Sleep for a while."

"I do not want to," she confessed, even as she was caught in a yawn. She tilted her head so she could see him through sleepy, vulnerable eyes. "I am afraid I will wake up and find that I was simply dreaming about you again."

His heart swelled.

Caressing her cheek with his hand, thrilling when she leaned into his touch, he reassured her, "You won't. This is real and I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?" she asked sleepily, referring just as much to the "real" part as to the rest.

"Promise," he vowed, holding her close with every intention of keeping her there as long as possible.

* * *

_A/N:_ _I thought this story would be five chapters, but this last section insisted it should have two chapters. One more update should close this one out, though we might come back to play in this universe. THANKS for reading and reviews really do mean a lot! =)_


	6. Belonging

Gibbs alternated between dozing and watching Ziva while she slept solidly for about three hours straight. As she came awake, she rubbed against him like a cat, turned into him as naturally as she had six weeks ago.

When she blinked open her eyes and found him looking down at her tenderly in the waning light, her slow smile warmed him from his head to his toes.

_Real_ she breathed almost soundlessly as her hand smoothed over the muscled contours of his delectable chest, nearly delirious with pleasure.

His mouth found hers and they made love again without hurry, as though they had all the time in the world.

After another shower – because she had no idea how she was going to tame her wild curls without washing them after falling into bed with wet hair earlier and making love not once, but twice – he brought her bags up to his room and left her to get dressed while he made them something to eat.

"You actually went to the grocery?" she teased from the doorway into the kitchen.

He glanced over to find her still finger-combing her long, damp locks until they were mostly straightened. Even dressed in a simple royal blue top that fell off one shoulder and a pair of soft black yoga pants, no make-up and barefoot, her beauty slammed into his gut, momentarily taking his breath away.

His characteristic smile tugged at his mouth.

"All part of the plan," he admitted, adding spaghetti to a pot of boiling water and then stirring the red sauce that had pre-made fat meatballs he'd found in the deli bobbing in it.

"Oh?" she drawled slowly as she walked over to him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pressed a kiss to his back before resting her cheek against it. "What plan is that?"

Finished at the stove for the moment, Gibbs turned and wrapped his arms around her.

"To keep you naked and in bed most of the weekend," he revealed with a roguish twinkle in his eyes. "Figured we'd need to eat now and then just to keep our strength up, so I went to the store."

She laughed, then rose up on her toes to press a kiss to his mouth.

"That is an excellent plan," she commended him, setting back down on her heels. "You may count on my full participation."

His expression faded from affectionately teasing to something a little more serious as he looked down at her. He raised a hand to cup her jaw, spearing his long fingers into her hair.

"Missed you, Ziva," he told her softly. "A lot."

A delicious warmth spread from her heart to her belly and beyond.

"I missed you, too," she husked.

Their heads bent toward each other and they lost themselves in another long kiss that lasted until the bubbling pasta required some attention before it boiled over.

She opened a couple of beers and they ate at his table, playing footsie and sharing stories from the last six weeks that had not made it into their phone calls.

He tried to brush off her compliments about dinner, but she wouldn't let him. He diverted her attention by revealing that among the groceries he'd bought were the fixings for cheeseburgers, and grinned at the way her eyes lit up.

He also informed her that he'd grill the burgers and the steak he'd also picked up, but they would just about have tapped out his cooking skills by that point.

She graciously – secretly delightedly – allowed herself to be sweet-talked into doing the rest of the cooking.

After they'd rinsed the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen, they sat close together on the couch, touching, nuzzling, holding … simply enjoying being near enough to do so.

"You said we'd talk after we got home," he reminded her, his heart poking at him and begging to know just how long she was staying.

Ziva was sitting sideways facing him, one elbow resting on the back of the couch, her head leaning on that hand. She smiled and squeezed his hand that she was holding with her other one.

Taking a breath to calm her suddenly jittery nerves, she jumped in with both feet.

"I received a call this past Monday from your president," Ziva began. His eyes widened in surprise.

"_The_ President?"

She chuckled. "I know. I had the same reaction."

After a brief pause, she continued.

"Apparently, he has had a vision and finally has the support he needs from other leaders and the United Nations to make it happen. He wants to put together an anti-terrorism task force made up of intelligence operatives from several different countries," she revealed. "This group would collect and analyze intel, share information, move to stop everything possible before it happens, organize responses … all with the goal of working together to decrease terrorist attacks around the world."

His eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise.

"He also hopes it will foster a sense of …" She searched for a word. "Community, I suppose, between nations, the understanding that we are all connected, that it should matter to one of us what happens to another."

"Wow," was all he could say at first. After a moment of thinking, he added, "Didn't see that coming, but sounds like a good thing."

"I thought so, too," she said. She waited a heartbeat. "I have been offered a position with the task force."

She actually saw his pulse leap at the base of his throat and prayed it meant what she hoped with all her heart that it did.

He all but snorted, trying to keep his wishful thinking from galloping too far ahead of the conversation.

"They should put you in charge of it," he observed.

"Actually, that is the position," she revealed softly.

His eyes flew to hers and stayed there.

"I pointed out that, in the intelligence world, he is taking a risk putting a woman, especially one who is likely to be younger than many she is leading, in charge of such an operation, but he was not concerned," she shared. Her respect for the president's opinion on that and his commitment to securing the best person for the job – regardless of gender or age or anything else - was obvious. "Apparently, after that last meeting when I was here before, there were several in his cabinet who suggested that I be considered."

She was clearly more than a little staggered by that.

That particular news didn't surprise Gibbs in the least, though. She was a natural to head such a group, in his opinion.

He'd all but forgotten about that meeting in the wake of the news she'd delivered directly after – that she would be leaving for Israel in about twelve hours – but now recalled that she'd been in conference with Homeland, the FBI, the CIA and the White House that morning.

"He did some research of his own and agreed."

Her eyes took on a wry gleam as she added a little more.

"I did feel compelled to point out that I do not exactly have a reputation for … diplomacy." He snorted and she grinned. They were much alike in that. "However, he was impressed with the manner in which we worked with NCIS and actually sees my style as a plus for the agent in charge of this particular operation." Amusement gleamed in her eyes. "He also says we could find a second-in-command for whom 'tactful relations' are a strength."

"Don't look at me," he snorted.

"You have many wonderful gifts, but, on that, I am forced to agree," she grinned, her arresting brown eyes twinkling.

Not that she would wish him any other way.

He grew serious once more.

"What are you gonna do?" Jethro asked quietly, carefully, searching her face for the answer.

She smiled and lifted her head off her hand so that she could caress his cheek with the backs of her fingers.

"Though I am not completely sure how I feel about the high likelihood of being in an office more than I will be in the field, I have accepted the position pending a meeting next week with several of the leaders involved to discuss some of the specifics," she admitted. "Much is still to be determined. For instance, the president would like me to be attached to one of your agencies here or his National Security Council, though I will also retain my standing within Mossad."

She paused for a moment, her eyes catching his meaningfully.

"I also requested the chance to discuss this with you before formally accepting."

"Where will you be based?" he asked, grateful that she wanted to include him in her decision, but afraid to let loose his hope for exactly where she would be living.

"That is another thing that is still to be decided," she shared. "It will likely be here or in New York City, and there are arguments to be made for both."

His heart pounded.

"Do I get a vote?" he husked.

Her lips curved even more tenderly, though a hint of vulnerability crept into her gaze. Squeezing his hand, she made a further admission.

"Yours is the most important one."

Satisfaction flared in his eyes and he hauled her onto his lap, holding her as though he didn't intend to let her go.

"D.C.," he voted. "Want you here."

The thrilled, relieved light in her eyes warmed his heart.

"I was hoping you would feel that way," she admitted on a grateful, happy sigh.

Smiling, their lips came together again, connecting tenderly, warmly, with more feeling than either of them could put into words just then. After they finally parted for much-needed air, Ziva tucked her face into his throat and snuggled in.

"Then, to answer your question from earlier and the other day," she finished softly, "it appears I will be staying for a long time."

The squeeze of his arms around her and the kiss he pressed to her head told her he was a big fan of that plan, which couldn't have made her happier. She relaxed completely into him as a sense of peace stole over her. They sat in comfortable silence for a few long moments until he made a request.

"Can I be the one to tell Malachi?"

A grin pulled at her lips at his question.

"Only if you promise to sound _very_ possessive," she murmured into his ear in a sultry tone that skittered down his spine, "and you allow me to listen in."

"First part's a given," he informed her roguishly, "and, sure, if you want."

That earned him a kiss that rocked him to his toes.

"Guess this means won't have to have McGee book me on a flight to Tel Aviv," he reflected somewhat distractedly after she released his mouth to press a string of tiny kisses along his throat.

She pulled back so she could see his face.

"You were going to do that?"

He nodded.

A slow, beaming smile lit up her beautiful face.

"And I guess this means I can stop trying to figure out how to convince my father that I should become the Mossad Agent-in-Charge in Washington, D.C."

His characteristic grin accompanied by a satisfied, heated gaze made her stomach flop and her pulse throb between her thighs.

She buried her face against his neck again, pleased to simply hold him and be held in return.

"So, perhaps you would help me find a place to live?" she asked contentedly. "Although I suppose I should not sign anything until after my meeting next week, hmmm?"

Even she could hear the relaxed, happy note in her voice that had been missing for a while.

At least six weeks, to be exact.

"I'll help," he told her. He waited the space of two heartbeats. "Found a place."

She lifted her head from his shoulder to look into that handsome face of his that she was certain she'd never tire of seeing. Her brow was lightly furrowed in confusion.

"Here," he shared, answering her unspoken question.

"Yes," she said slowly. "We have both already voted for D. -"

Her breath caught.

"What do you mean, 'here'?"

"Here," he repeated with certainty. "In this house. With me."

Her heart was pounding so hard she marveled that he couldn't hear it.

"Jethro," she started carefully, "you do not have to suggest that. We have time now; we do not have to rush."

But, oh how she wanted to despite her usual guarded approach to matters of the heart, though she hadn't allowed herself to hope for anything beyond living in the same city with him.

"I know," he nodded. "Don't need time to know that's what I want." He looked at her without a doubt in his blue-eyed gaze. "Unless you do."

She shook her head.

"I do not," she whispered, the cautious longing that had been banked in her eyes breaking through to shine as brilliantly as the sun.

"That a yes?" he asked with one brow cocked, his eyes warmly teasing, unmistakable hope in his gaze.

She nodded.

"Yes," she husked joyfully. Then she shifted so she was straddling his lap and hugging him for dear life. "It is most definitely a yes!"

He laughed and hugged her back.

Sitting back a little, Ziva cupped his face in her hands and traced his features with her eyes for a moment as her thumbs smoothed over his cheeks, her smile gradually fading to something deeper that made his heart rate kick up.

God, she'd missed him.

"My father believes my heart stayed here when I left before," she admitted, her voice husky with emotion.

"Yeah?"

She nodded.

"Whadya you say about that?"

"I … think he may be right," she shared, uncharacteristically a little hesitant, her eyes skittering away from his.

"Just think?" he asked quietly, his gaze intent on hers once more.

Ziva consciously quieted her nerves and found that strong, confident, reach-for-what-she-wanted side of her that had attracted him in the first place. She took a steadying breath, then stepped further out onto this emotional ledge they were both so carefully treading.

"I know," she admitted, her voice soft, but clear and true. She held his gaze, hiding nothing. "The question is … do you want it?"

For a moment, he simply looked at her, allowing everything he felt for her, all the relief he was experiencing that she was back with him where she belonged, to creep slowly into his gaze.

"Seems only fair," he answered strangely, before clarifying, "since you have mine."

Her delighted, grateful smile and happy laugh zinged through him. She threw her arms back around his neck and held on tightly, one hand on the back of his head pressing his face into her throat as she buried hers against his hair.

Gibbs spoke again as one arm banded her tightly to him and the other hand rubbed up and down her back simply for the pure pleasure of it.

"Should probably know I'm gonna change your mind about getting married."

Her breath caught.

Her heart pounded.

Leaning back slowly, she stared at him for a long moment, surprise and wonder giving way to love and happiness shining from her big brown eyes.

"You should know that I intend to let you," she whispered emotionally in response.

His relieved grin pulled an answering one from her as they melted back together in a kiss that telegraphed the words that would soon be spoken out loud.

Those three little words he hadn't uttered since losing Shannon and Kelly.

Those same words she had never said to anyone but her mother and her sister.

Ziva's last coherent thought as she settled completely against Jethro once more was that with this man, wherever he was, _that_ was where she belonged.

~ _The End_ ~


End file.
